Sermons: 2022

Sunday, December 11, 2022

Are You Really?

December 11, 2022 – Advent 3
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Isaiah 35:1-10; Matthew 11:2-11 [1]

There is a line in the first Harry Potter film that continually amuses me. Harry is brought by the half-giant Hagrid into a tavern where they will make their way from the regular “Muggle” world into the secret Diagon Alley of the Wizarding world.

Harry, who was attacked by “He-who-must-not-be-named” when he was a baby, has a scar on his forehead. Since the villain did not manage to kill Harry, he had become famous in the wizarding world as “the boy who lived.”

Harry doesn’t know he’s famous, since he grew up in the regular world with a non-wizard family. So, it is a bit of a surprise when the bartender looks up, notices the scar, and says, “Harry Potter. Are you really?”

John the Baptizer hears what is being said about Jesus, that he is fulfilling the promises of God recorded in Isaiah, and asks, “Are you really?” Are you really the one? If you’re not, well, that’s not good because, you see, I’m stuck in this prison. But if you are, that’s really good news!

In both the fictional story of Harry Potter and the biblical story of Jesus, the people have been waiting for someone to come who can really change things. They have high expectations for “the one.” And everyone is a little disappointed, because the one who comes isn’t exactly like they expected.

We often set high expectations for new leaders too. A new president rides into office on a wave of hope and change, and things are mostly the same as they were before. The new pastor comes and all of our problems remain. The new principal takes over the school, but the kids are still failing.

It might be that the leaders turn out to not really be “the one.” It might be that our expectations were not realistic. Or it might be that we dropped our responsibilities as soon as someone new took charge. This is “the one,” right? Well, he or she doesn’t need me; they can handle it themselves.

This is what often happens. A new leader is put in place and everybody just drops everything. The president can’t get anything done without the congress. The pastor can’t get anything done without the congregation. And even the Messiah can’t get much done without the disciples.

John’s job is finished. He prepared the way. The one who is to come is here. Now it is time for the disciples to get to work. The baton gets passed to them, and they drop it. They stubbornly refuse to understand what Jesus is talking about, again and again. However, they keep trying. They keep learning. And they keep following, because he really is the one. He really is the Messiah, God-with-us.

Is he really the one? Well, as Isaiah wrote:

Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened,
and the ears of the deaf unstopped;

then the lame shall leap like a deer,
and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy.[2]

Jesus did open the eyes of the blind. “Two blind men followed him, crying loudly, ‘Have mercy on us, Son of David! … Then he touched their eyes and said, ‘According to your faith let it be done to you.’ And their eyes were opened.”[3]

Jesus did unstop the ears of the deaf, and the speechless sang. “They brought to him a deaf man who had an impediment in his speech… He took him aside in private, away from the crowd, and put his fingers into his ears… then looking up to heaven, he sighed and said to him, ‘Ephphatha’, that is, ‘Be opened.’ And immediately his ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly.”[4]

The lame did leap. “Great crowds came to him, bringing with them the lame, the maimed, the blind, the mute, and many others. They put them at his feet, and he cured them.”[5]

John needed to be sure:

“When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples and said to him, ‘Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?’ Jesus answered them, ‘Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.’”[6]

Now, we don’t see Jesus walking around anymore, healing and teaching. We do see disciples, people like you and me, though we’re not able to heal the blind and the lame. So how are we to know if we’ve found the Holy Way, if we really are God’s people?

We know because we love God with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength and our neighbor as ourselves. We know because we welcome all, love all, and seek justice for all. We know because we strive to imitate the transformative life of Christ, encouraging authentic connection and compassion between individuals, local communities, and the world. If one were to look at us and wonder, are they really followers of Christ, they could see by our hope, our work for peace, our joy in believing, and in the love we share.

The work that the disciples did, and that they have continued to do down through the centuries and even today, is to bring hope to those without hope. We bring peace to those who need peace. We bring joy to those who need to be lifted up. We continue to bring the love of God to the world.

Unto us is born a Savior. Really! This is the one. And Christ will lead us. But friends, we have to follow. We must do our part, no matter how small. And when we do, we bring love to the world, and joy to God. Amen.

[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

[2] Isaiah 35:5-6.

[3] Matthew 9:27-30, selected.

[4] Mark 7:32-35, selected.

[5] Matthew 15:30.

[6] Matthew 11:2-5.

Sunday, December 4, 2022

A Signal to the Peoples

December 4, 2022 – Advent 2
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Isaiah 11:1-10; Matthew 3:1-12 [1]

Isaiah has hope for the future of Israel. He proclaims in this passage the coming of a righteous ruler in the line of David, and an age of harmony and peace. This was at a time when ancient Israel had divided into a northern kingdom of Israel and a southern kingdom of Judah. War with Assyria would soon destroy Samaria and end the northern kingdom. If a messiah were to come, Isaiah recognizes that it might not be in his lifetime, and the peaceable kingdom might be a consummation of God’s kingdom in the distant future. Yet he remains hopeful.

The branch growing out of the root of Jesse references the house of King David, the son of Jesse. The hoped-for king will be known as “the anointed one” and “The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord” (Is 11:2). The king will rule with righteousness, defending the welfare of the most defenseless and marginal.

Early Christians saw this model of leadership fulfilled in Jesus. He is the descendent of David who will usher in the reign of God’s kingdom. The kingdom of God, so often referenced in our Gospels, will encompass not only the future of Israel but the Gentiles and all the nations. In Jesus, we see the hope for the future, the completion of God’s vision, and the fulfillment of Isaiah’s hope for the peoples.

As we read Isaiah’s oracle of hope in our own time this Advent, we claim the anointed son of David in Jesus Christ, the new branch grown from the root of Jesse. We see Christ as the signal to the peoples of the promised consummation of God’s peaceable kingdom yet to come. It is a world where no one will hurt or destroy, when all of the earth will be full of the knowledge and presence of the Lord.

John the Baptist also holds this hope for the future of God’s people. He knows what Isaiah hoped for, as he quoted, “Prepare the way of the Lord” (Mt 3:3; Is 40:3). He proclaims the nearness of the reign of God, and announces the one who is coming after him with power.

John’s vision is more severe than that of Isaiah, at least in the way it is directed toward the Pharisees and Sadducees. To John, the temple and imperial buildings represented the centralized power of the Roman regime. The leaders considered themselves secure in the status-quo, children of Abraham, heirs to the promises of God. John warns of the ax lying at the root of the trees. Here in the wilderness – in Israel’s history the place of renewal – the old ways of power will be thrown into the fire and the new creation will be born, the new kingdom of God.

John, this wild man living on the margins, drew the people out of the center, out of Jerusalem and the temple. Here in the wilderness, on the fringes of society, the renewal and redemption of the people is taking place. The Pharisees and Sadducees, aligned with the ruling class, perceive John as a threat to their interests. The power and influence of the temple and the system of religious sacrifices is challenged by John’s baptism of repentance. John’s warnings of judgement are directed at them. More worrisome for them, and more encouraging for those on the banks of the Jordan, is the hope of one who is coming to baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire.

Jesus didn’t come to burn everything down. We must remember, it is only the chaff that is burned. The wheat is gathered into the granary. That which does us no good is cleared away, and what remains is redeemed. Wealth and status, bloodlines and position hold no more value in the kingdom of heaven than the sinners gathered by the river in the wilderness. What is of value, repentance and renewal, faithfulness and good works, these are harvested by the one who holds the winnowing-fork.

We, of course, are not rulers or judges or nations. We are not Pharisees or Sadducees. We are more like the people of Jerusalem and all Judea, gathered here rather than the river, yet still seeking repentance and renewal. We have come with our sins to confess, and we bring the scars of the sins committed against us. We seek the one who will judge with righteousness, and we are recovering from those who have judged us without righteousness. And what we find in the words of Isaiah and of John is both acceptance and admonition. We discover here, that we are loved for who we are and we are also responsible for what we do.

This Advent, as we gather in our sacred space, we enter the threshing-floor. We don’t yearn for judgement, yet we know that we have judged others. We hope that our unrighteous judgements will be swept away. We wash in the water, and hope that it will wash away our sins; but we know we have sinned against others. We hope the fire will burn that inclination away. We are grateful that one who winnows is the one who judges with righteousness and decides with equity.

As we prepare to welcome the Christ-child, we remember who we are. We learn again that we are loved, and that we are expected to be loving. We are reminded that we are loved enough by God to be welcomed into the family of Christ, and that God loves us enough to expect that we will act accordingly. My prayer for you is that this Advent season prepares you for a life which signals that the kingdom of heaven has come near. Amen.

Sunday, November 27, 2022

Keep Awake

November 27, 2022 – First Sunday of Advent
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Isaiah 2:1-5; Matthew 24:36-44[1]

We live in a time of uncertainty. There is certainly plenty to cause us anxiety these days. There is the ongoing war in Ukraine, rising tension between China and the West, deadly protests in Iran, and never-ending conflict between Israel and Palestine. There is inflation, or maybe it’s easing up. There is the triple threat of COVID, RSV, and the Flu. And always, the political strife in our country. Things can seem pretty dark in the world right now. Are the nations beating their ploughshares into swords, and their pruning hooks into spears? It seems that way sometimes. And it seems as if there is little we can do about it except worry.

I worry about how I’m going to pay for college for Zach and Nathan. I worry about my retirement fund, the health of my mother-in-law, and when the cars are going to give out; and I worry about what I see and read in the news. What does it all mean? Where are we headed? And is there anything I can do about it? Sometimes, dare I say it, I fear for the future. I’m sure there are times when you do as well. Change comes faster and faster these days, and it’s hard to keep up with it all.

Part of that fear, I suppose, is because I think I’m supposed to know the answers. I’m a faithful person, I believe in God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, the Bible, the Church Universal, etcetera. I’m supposed to have it all figured out, right? But my faith doesn’t always help me figure out the right thing to do. There are times when I have no idea what God would have me do in a given situation. There’s nothing in the Bible about smart phones, Twitter, antibiotics, electric automobiles, or radioactive pollution.

The disciples lived with uncertainty too. In our passage from Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus, whom the disciples have followed for years now, has entered Jerusalem and cleansed the temple. He has just finished a lengthy denunciation of the scribes and Pharisees in the previous chapter. The disciples, who know who Jesus is, are starting to worry that things are not going how they expected, and in their fear, they anticipate the end times. They ask Jesus, “Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign of your coming and of the end of the age?”[2]

Religious leaders, scientists, and philosophers have been making predictions for the end of the world for centuries. They’ve predicted the destruction of the world through floods, fires, and comets—none of which have come to pass. The apostle Paul got it wrong; and even Jesus predicted that “this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place.”[3]

Jesus tells them about many signs of the end of the age; but more importantly he says, “about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son.”[4] There is some mysterious day in the future when the judgment will come, but even Jesus doesn’t know when that will be. Yes, Jesus doesn’t know everything; and you know what? We’re not supposed to know everything either. Uncertainty is to be expected. It is nothing to fear. And faith certainly doesn’t mean living without uncertainty, not for the disciples, and not for us.

It is possible to live with uncertainty, to keep moving steadily into the future with no guarantee that we’re on the right path. We can live with the questions, seeking different answers if the old ones stop making sense. In order to keep us steady through the uncertainty of life, Jesus points us toward the everyday tasks of living – eating and drinking, marrying, working in the fields and grinding meal – doing them faithfully in wakefulness. Keep living your life, keep an eye on what is to come, but keep your focus on the here and now. Live a faithful life, and keep awake.

“You know what time it is,” Paul wrote to the Romans, “how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep.”[5] Things may seem dark in the world today, but “the night is far gone, the day is near.”[6] It may be dark now, but a change is coming. When the doorbell rings, it will be too late to clean the house. Jesus is coming; quick, everyone look busy!

Don’t just stand around watching the skies and waiting for the rapture. We don’t have time for that! We should do good works. We should do the best we can, uncertain whether we are right or wrong at times, but faithfully going about the work we believe God would have us do in this world. And, fear not! We’re not supposed to do everything ourselves. We’re not supposed to save the world. That job is already taken. Our role is to be God’s hands in the world, to work toward the realm of God, and the work that we do will be enough. Our task is to keep faith, joy, and love alive in the midst of dark times, and watch for the signs of hope.

What we must do is choose how we go about that work of doing good in the world. Mark Yurs, a pastor in Wisconsin wrote, “The key element for Jesus is not the work, important as it is. The indispensable part of faithful work is [what] Jesus names as watchfulness or wakefulness.” [7] The disciple is the one who is watchful for the signs of the coming realm of God. “Hope will come,” Rev. Yurs continues, “the deepest, best, and highest shall come – not from our work but from somewhere outside and beyond it.”[8] The disciples don’t bring the hope, they point out where hope is present.

We are faced with an uncertain future. Things look grim, for many people around the world, for people in this community, and for people in this room. And so, we must make a decision. We can’t go backward, searching for halcyon days that weren’t as golden as we like to remember them. We can’t stick with the old reality. If we do that, things will only get worse. We have to start living in the now, and living into the future. The decision we face is how we shall live. Will we fear the new reality, or will we face it with hope? Do we trust the signs? Do we trust the prophets? Do we trust Emmanuel?

How do we live into the future? Do we allow ourselves to be motivated by fear, or do we watch for signs of hope? Do we point out all the things that give us reason to give up, or do we keep our eyes open for ways in which we can make a difference? Do we turn our backs to the poor, or do we work together as people who have faith that things can be better? As Christians, we live into the future with glad anticipation, with hopeful urgency, awake with expectation of the dawn. “In days to come the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be raised above the hills; all the nations shall stream to it.”[9]

Let us pray. O come, O come, Emmanuel. God be with us. Cheer our spirits, disperse the clouds of night. Show us the path of knowledge, give us hope, and fill the whole world with heaven’s peace. Jesus, as we come to your table, take from us our fear, and give to us your hope. Amen.

[2] Matthew 24:3.

[3] Matthew 24:34.

[4] Matthew 24:36.

[5] Romans 13:11.

[6] Romans 13:12.

[7] Mark E. Yurs, “Homiletical Perspective” on Matthew 24: 36-44 in Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year A, Volume 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), p. 21-25.

[8] Ibid.

[9] Isaiah 2:2.

Sunday, November 20, 2022

All the Fullness of God

November 20, 2022 – Thanksgiving Sunday
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Colossians 1:11-20; John 6:25-35 [1]

Thanksgiving is more than the festivities, the feasting, or the football games on TV. It gives us time to ponder what lessons we have learned and how we can spread happiness to those around us. It is an opportunity to look back at the great memories and good people who have come into our lives. I am thankful for this congregation and I want you to know that I appreciate you. Happy Thanksgiving Day to you and your loved ones.

Many of us have traditions around thanksgiving. Some of us gather food for the less-fortunate. Some participate in “Turkey Trots”. And some just try to be kind in little ways. One way I try to honor the holiday is to say “thank you” more often. I recently read a story about the power of just saying “Thank you” to someone.

Yareli worked as a janitor in a small company for many years. Being a janitor is a pretty thankless job, which many of us might consider as a “dirty” job or at least pretty far down the totem pole. In other words, Yareli often felt like she was invisible.

One day, the company changed owners. Within a few days, the new owner wrote a personal thank you card to every employee in the company. An assistant went around to each employee and handed them out.

When Yareli received and opened her card, she burst into tears. She asked if she could be excused from work. Thinking she was sick, the assistant allowed her to leave for the rest of the day.

The next day at work, the owner found Yareli and asked if she was alright. She said she had worked there for over twenty years, and she had never received even a verbal thank you from the previous owners - much less a personal card. She was really touched by the card expressing appreciation for her work.

Yareli had been thinking the change of ownership was probably a good time to quit and find another place to work. She had planned to give her two-weeks-notice that previous day. Because the owner had taken the time to send a thank you card, she felt – for the first time – that someone cared.[2]

When we think about what we are thankful for, most of us will have a long list. Much of that list may be material things, but I’m sure that our lists also will hold many names of people who have touched our lives. As you think through the names on that list – family, friends, teachers, janitors – is one of those names Jesus? I’m not trying to shame you or make you feel guilty. I admit that I don’t always include Jesus in my list of thankfulness. But when things fall apart, when I start to drift away from my center, I need reminding that there is One in whom all things hold together (C. 1:17). There is One who empowers all my acts of kindness and gratitude. And I am thankful, truly thankful, for Jesus.

We have the experience of living in a community and culture that is largely Christian. While there are certainly disagreements about just how to be a good Christian, what we believe about Christ, and how we live our faith, we are all generally pulled in the same direction. That was not the case for many people in biblical times, particularly those who lived in the near-east where many cultures bumped up against each other, and many philosophies from near and far vied for attention.

Colossae was one of the most celebrated cities in the western part of what is now modern Turkey. A significant city from the 5^th century BCE onwards, it had dwindled in importance by the time of this letter from Paul. The town was known for its variety of competing religious influences. Cosmic forces and unseen spirits were understood to be everywhere, and the Christian community was drifting away from their new faith. Paul writes to them to try to re-center Christ in their lives.

As we heard in our reading, Christ is not merely another choice in the marketplace of philosophies, but the center-point. Christ “is before all things, and in him all things hold together” (C. 1:17). The people may believe that they have to appease these other spirits lest they fall into disease or poverty. Paul reassures them that in Christ, “all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers” (C. 1:16). These other things may cause you to worry, but as Christians we must remember that Jesus Christ is our connection to God who rescues us from the power of darkness, and reconciles all things.

For us, following Jesus is not supposed to be one task competing with others, not just something we think about on Sunday morning, but the way in which we live our whole lives. There are certainly plenty of powers competing for our attention, from materialism and greed to struggles for power and prestige. What Paul is telling us here is that we aren’t subject to these other powers. We belong to another kingdom, “the kingdom of [God’s] beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins. (C. 1:13).

When you read the letter to the Colossians, you’ll find that it is filled with love, encouragement, and reassurance. Are you struggling with the fears and forces that pull you every which way? Are you weighed down by all of the suffering, brokenness, and sin in the world? All of it, and all of us are gathered up in Christ, who is able to hold all of us, to heal and comfort and restore. God’s house is big enough to shelter everyone and everything. In Christ, “all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross” (C. 1:19-20).

As we gather with family this Thanksgiving Day, to share a meal together and give thanks for all the people and things on our lists, we can be thankful for what fill us up. Not just the meal, though you may be filled, or over-filled, by that. Not just the fullness in our hearts from the presence of loved ones. We can be thankful that we are also filled with the true bread from heaven (L. 6:32). We can give thanks for the constant presence of Christ in our lives.

I believe that there are many ways to experience the Lord’s Supper. It can be on the first Sunday each month in church. It can be at home watching a worship live-stream. It can be the meal shared in Fellowship Hall. And it can be the family Thanksgiving dinner. There, at the table, we give thanks, break the bread, and share it together. If we are intentional about it, we can encounter “the bread of God… which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world” (L. 6:33). “Jesus said to them, ‘I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty’” (L. 6:35).

Let us pray. God, we are thankful. Fill us with all the fullness that comes from your glorious power. Prepare us to endure everything with patience, while joyfully giving thanks to you, who have enabled us to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light. We give thanks today for Jesus Christ, the bread of life. Amen.

[2] Adapted from “Gratitude Story about a Janitor” on https://www.thank-your-stars.com.

Sunday, November 13, 2022

Children of the Resurrection

November 13, 2022
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Luke 20:27-38 [1]

Does anyone else think the Sadducees are a little crude? Yes, there is this odd instruction in Deuteronomy 25 that if a married man dies childless, his brother should take the woman to be his wife and the children “shall succeed to the name of the deceased brother, so that his name may not be blotted out of Israel.”[2] If you hadn’t noticed before, there is some shady stuff in the bible that makes us cringe. The Sadducees, hoping to humiliate Jesus, go for the gotcha line. They pick a demeaning rule about widows and make up a ridiculous hypothetical. They use a rhetorical fallacy, the slippery slope, to try to show that belief in the resurrection can’t be based on the Torah, the laws of Moses. “Whose wife will the woman be?” (v. 33).

Jesus doesn’t fall for it. People in this age marry, but in the age of the resurrection there is no marriage. The rules no longer apply. Your question is meaningless. And don’t get me started on the concept of married women being the property of their husband. The children of the resurrection don’t belong to anyone but God. Don’t be so crude.

So, who are these Sadducees, anyway? During the time between 200 and 100 BCE, the interpreters of the law were split into factions, with the Pharisees and Sadducees disagreeing over belief in the resurrection. According to the Sadducees, there was no doctrine of the resurrection of the dead or of angels in the Torah, the books of Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy. The Pharisees argument was that the written Torah was only part of the story, and the interpretation of the law must be ongoing, taking into account new beliefs such as those which emerged in the prophetic literature.

An example they would have used was the book of Daniel, which features the angels Gabriel and Michael as well as reference to the resurrection of the dead. The Pharisees valued the ongoing interpretation of the Torah in oral tradition, embracing new understanding about the final judgement and everlasting life. Jesus participated in these debates, and spoke often about eternal life. Even though we often see Jesus arguing with the Pharisees, they were both aligned against the Sadducees.

These debates, these challenges to Jesus’ authority, illustrate the power of questions. Questions can have many purposes. Questions can set or frame the conversation. Questions can seek knowledge, a better understanding of a situation, or seek to challenge the authority or character of an opponent. Questions can be used to find out what another knows, or to show that the other can’t possibly know anything of value and should be dismissed. For the Sadducees, the question they ask here is clearly framed to show the crowd that Jesus is not trustworthy or knowledgeable.

Jesus doesn’t fall for the dirty tricks. This is the master Teacher, after all, and he takes the question not as a challenge but a teachable moment. Heaven and earth are not the same. The rules are different. Things work differently in the life to come, and God is less concerned about the particulars of the rules than the love and mercy that you show to one another. “Holy God, whose ways are not our ways and whose thoughts are not our thoughts…”[3] These familiar words remind us that in heaven even the lowest of the low “are like angels and are children of God, being children of the resurrection” (v. 36).

The kingdoms of the earth are not the kingdom of heaven, where the last shall be first and the first shall be last. Jesus teaches that heaven is where those who have been dehumanized will be restored, the oppressed will be set free, those who have been treated as inferior will be lifted up. In God’s realm we neither marry nor are given in marriage, women are not the property of men, and the children of the resurrection will know the peace and joy that was denied them in life.

Jesus knew the scriptures. He had studied as much as any good Pharisee or Sadducee. What set him apart, among other things, was that he looked up from the book to see the people. People who hurt, people suffering, people in need of hope, people in need of the God of the living. These people living under the oppressive Roman rule, slaving day after day to see little or no improvement in their lives, these people needed to know that just because it has been this way in life doesn’t mean it will be this way in the life to come.

Suffering keeps people from imagining new possibilities. The dehumanizing systems of oppression that we witness today, of racism, classism, sexism, heterosexism, ableism, keeps people from seeing anything better. Suffering keeps the children of the world looking down, backs bent in labor, faces hidden in fear, minds weary from struggle, so that they cannot see the promise of freedom. Though they may be dead to the world, Jesus sees them, and to him they are all alive, for they are children of the resurrection.

It is in faith that they, and we, have hope. Had it not been for the steadfast faith of Moses, the Hebrews might still be lost in the desert. Had it not been for the faith of Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel, the people might not have returned from Babylon. Had it not been for the faith of Mary, Peter, and John, the risen Christ might not be preached today. Had it not been for the faith of the slaves in America, the spirituals of freedom might still be only sung in chains.

In the good news of Jesus’ resurrection, we know that we too are children of the resurrection. In the midst of every situation, this promise bring hope to rise above what tries to bring us down. God loves and cares for the poor, the widow, the oppressed, the exploited, the illegal. In this knowledge we may find hope. As children of the resurrection, this world does not have the last word, and our worth and dignity will be restored. With this faith we may find courage.

When God spoke to Moses out of the burning bush, he was greeted by these words: “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.”[4] To God, all of them are alive. This means that not only these ancient ancestors, but all who have gone before us are alive in God. They are not dead to God, and they are not dead to us. They did not only speak in times gone by, but they speak to us now. And together with all we are the complete family of God.

We cannot connect directly with those who have passed on before us. It doesn’t work that way. But we do believe in the resurrection, and we know the living God, and in the life of God we are one with all of God’s family. In that company we are strengthened for the journey of faith, encouraged in the work of justice and peace, and blessed to share this world, and this life, with our one great family. Amen.

[2] Deuteronomy 25:6.

[4] Exodus 3:6.

Sunday, November 6, 2022

I've Got a Saint for Ya

November 6, 2022 – All Saints Sunday
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Luke 6:20-31 [1]

What is a saint? In the New Revised Standard Version Bible, the one we use in this church for worship and study, the word “saint,” or the plural “saints,” appears only once in the Old Testament, in Psalm 31, verse 23: “Love the Lord, all you, his saints. The Lord preserves the faithful, but abundantly repays the one who acts haughtily.”[2] The word seems to refer to anyone who is faithful, who fears the Lord. As an aside, the “fear of the Lord” is often misunderstood as the fear of getting in trouble, but it is better understood to mean the fear of offending someone you love, or of disappointing someone who trusts in you.

There are 63 references for the word “saints” in the New Testament, almost all of them in Paul’s letters, and similarly, they seem to refer to anyone who is a faithful believer, who has been baptized and lives as a Christian.

The term “saint”[3] has taken on special meaning as a person who has been recognized for having an exceptional degree of holiness, sanctity, and virtue. In Orthodox and Catholic teachings, all Christians in heaven are considered to be saints, but some are considered to be worthy of higher honor, emulation, or veneration, with official church recognition given to some saints through canonization.

In the Roman Catholic Church, the title of “Saint” refers to a person who has been formally canonized (officially recognized) by the Catholic Church, and is therefore believed to be in Heaven. In Church tradition, a person who is seen as exceptionally holy can be declared a saint by a formal process, called canonization. Formal canonization is a lengthy process often taking many years, even centuries.

The process involves a detailed investigation of the candidate’s life, undertaken by experts, bishops, and a special group called the Congregation for the Causes of Saints in Rome. Titles are given along the way, such as “Venerable” and “Blessed.” A minimum of two important miracles are required to be formally declared a saint. These miracles must be posthumous, or attributed to the person after their death. Finally, when all of this is done the Pope canonizes the saint.

Some people pray to certain saints who they believe will intercede with God on their behalf. In other words, they pray to a saint who they ask to pray to God for them. Someone going on a journey might pray for protection to Bona of Pisa, the patron saint of travelers. Many Protestants consider prayers to the saints to be unnecessary at best, and idolatry at worst, and believe that prayers should be made to God alone.

In many Protestant churches, such as ours, the word “saint” is used more generally to refer to anyone who is a Christian. This is similar to the way Paul used the word in his letters. In this sense, anyone who is within the Body of Christ (i.e., a practicing Christian) is a “saint” because of their relationship with Jesus Christ.

In his book, Making Saints, author Kenneth Woodward notes the following:

A saint is always someone through whom we catch a glimpse of what God is like—and of what we are called to be. Only God “makes” saints, of course. The church merely identifies from time to time a few of these for emulation. The church then tells the story. But the author is the Source of the grace by which saints live. And there we have it: A saint is someone whose story God tells.[4]

However a saint is defined, the person in question is usually someone who is recognized by others as having lived a particularly faithful life in service to others. They have a story worth telling, a life worthy of imitation, and they hold a special place in our collective memory.

I want you to think about some of the saints in your lives, and perhaps share a story during fellowship time. I’ve got a saint for ya. At the risk of being a hard act to follow, I want to tell you about my grandfather, Robert Inglis.

When World War II broke out, my grandfather was pastor of the Plymouth Congregational Church in Oakland, California. A student named Masayoshi Wakai, who was born in Hiroshima, Japan, was working at the church as he was finishing his 3^rd and final year at the Pacific School of Religion in Berkeley.

On February 19, 1942, President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed Executive Order 9066 which declared that all people of Japanese ancestry were excluded from the entire Pacific coast, including all of California and much of Oregon, Washington and Arizona, except for those in internment camps. About 110,000 people were moved with their families, sometimes at gunpoint, into “assembly centers,” and later to more permanent (and remote) “relocation centers” for the duration of World War II.

Mas Wakai, along with thousands of other Japanese people, many of whom were U.S. Citizens, was taken to Tanforan Assembly Center, a former racetrack. It was there that Mr. Wakai received his seminary diploma. Rev. Inglis asked Mr. Wakai and a classmate, George Aki, about having an ordination service in camp. They wrote their ordination papers in the horse stables far into the night while disturbing their neighbors in the adjoining stalls. In the summer of 1942, all of the Bay-Area Congregational churches sent their delegates to the camp, and Masayoshi Wakai and George Aki were duly ordained into the Christian ministry.

When the Japanese people were evacuated from the west coast, many of them lost their homes, their businesses, and their possessions. My father told me that Plymouth church, and my grandparents, safely stored the personal and household possessions of many people who were detained during the war. Perhaps this wasn’t a miracle in the traditional sense, but I’m sure it felt like one to the people who retained at least some of what they would otherwise have lost.

So, there’s my saint. Who is someone who has lived an exemplary life that has touched you deeply? Whose life has had a profound impact on yours? Is there a saint that led you closer to God?

In thanks for all the saints who have gone before us, I pray that God will guide us to be saints to others, to make a positive impact in the lives of our neighbors, and live on in the memories of those whose lives we have touched.

May God bless all the saints in this place. Amen.

[2] Psalm 31:23.

[3] Adapted from: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint.

[4] Kenneth L. Woodward, Making Saints: How the Catholic Church Determines Who Becomes a Saint, Who Doesn't, and Why (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1996), p. 13.

Sunday, October 30, 2022

Seek and Save the Lost

October 30, 2022
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Luke 19:1-10[1]

Zacchaeus, the chief tax collector, was known for colluding with Rome and skimming from the top of the collections. He was rich but despised, an outcast among his people, called a sinner by the grumbling crowd. We don’t expect a happy ending for Zacchaeus.

Jesus has criticized the rich several times already in Luke’s Gospel. “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God… But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation” (6:20, 24). Remember the parable, “The land of a rich man produced abundantly” (12:16)? And of course, there’s the one about the rich man and Lazarus (16:19-31). We expect a rebuke of Zacchaeus, and actual rich man standing before Jesus, caught red-handed if you will.

And yet, there is something different about Zacchaeus. He is the twist in the parable, the turning of the tables. We expect a rich and powerful man to push his way to the front of the crowd, or stand whispering in a doorway with the other rich men of Jericho as Jesus passes through. Instead, discarding all decorum, Zacchaeus runs ahead to climb a tree, just to get a good look at Jesus. And not only did he see, he was seen! Jesus called up to him, called him by name, and honored him by staying at his house.

A more pompous or self-righteous person might be apprehensive of what Jesus might say to him, a powerful rich man. Instead, “he hurried down and was happy to welcome him” (v. 6). The crowd was shocked by the social outcast being honored by Jesus. But Zacchaeus was joyful, overcome by love, and declares his lavish commitment to generosity. He will give away half his possessions to the poor, and repay his fraud with four times as much. Not with grudging acquiescence, but with a smile on his face and light in his heart.

“Salvation has come to this house,” announces Jesus (v. 9). Zacchaeus was who he was, but he is a child of Abraham, just like the rest of the crowd. He belongs to the family of God. He may have been lost, but now he has been found, and that is worth celebrating. After all, that is the mission, “to seek out and to save the lost” (v. 10). In seeking out Zacchaeus, Jesus shows the extravagant love of God who seeks out the lost, searching for those who have wandered away, because they still belong to the family of God.

We often focus on finding God, finding Jesus. We may think of ourselves as lost, seeking for the one light, for salvation. We stumble around in the dark, not noticing that our eyes are closed. Perhaps we’ve wandered away looking for quicker, easier, more seductive ways of life. What we have forgotten is that Jesus is looking for us. Jesus is seeking for us, walking miles and miles to find us, again and again. And it may only take opening our eyes or climbing a tree for us to be seen, to be found, to be called by name.

You may recall how, in the parable of two who went to the Temple to pray, the Pharisee bragged of his righteousness: “I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income” (18:12). He already thought of himself as righteous, justified, saved. Here we see a different response. Zacchaeus, who has not been so righteous before, has changed his ways. “I will give to the poor… I will pay back four times as much” (v. 8). In this moment, standing before the Lord, in the midst of the crowd grumbling about this sinner, Zacchaeus has been transformed. Without any sense of arrogance, and without being asked, he pledges his fortune in restitution for his crimes, in repentance for his sins. He is changed, and his mended heart will be seen in his new commitment to kindness, justice, and generosity.

We might think of repentance as the work required to earn God’s love and salvation. Here we see a better definition. Repentance is an act of gratitude for the grace extended by God. It can be an act of remorse, but it can also be an act motivated by joy. I messed up. I want to do better; I want to be better. And thanks be to God, I can be. The thing I find to be important is to remember that God doesn’t need us to pay back God for what we’ve done wrong. It is the people we’ve harmed who need our restitution. It is the poor we’ve ignored and those we have cheated who need our acts of repentance. It is our community that must see the change in us. God already loves us, has sought us out save us. Now we must commit ourselves to acts of justice and love among God’s people in thanksgiving and in joy.

Come, Lord Jesus, come and fill our hearts with your life. Let us be your voice of hope, of peace, and of love. Amen.